Dirty Little Lies (Dirty Little #2) (16 page)

I’m ready and waiting for him at 7, and don’t think much of him running late. That’s pretty typical for him. By 7:45, when my texts and calls have gone unanswered, my phone lights up.
 

It’s Stuart.
 

“Hello?” I say, trying to sound like I’m in control, and not dangerously close to spiraling.
 

“Don’t panic,” Stuart says, which does absolutely nothing to keep me calm. “I’m sending a car for you.”
 

“What happened?”
 

“It’s Ben.”
 

In an emergency room cubicle that takes us entirely too long to get to, Ben sits with his legs dangling off the bed, his head bowed, his injured hand cradled against his chest.
 

I rush into the room like an hysterical maniac, having pushed past a number of nurses in order to get to him. No one told me how bad it was, just that he was “going to be okay.”
 

I spent most of the ride over here thinking that maybe he’d be in a coma, or shot, or that he’d been hit by a car. I had no idea what to expect. But when I see his hangdog expression as I walk into the room, that he’s upright and conscious, I’m glad that at least the worst of my fears have been put to rest.
 

He’s fine, he’s moving under his own power, and there aren’t any wires coming out of his arm or any machines hooked up to his chest.
 

This is good, a best-case scenario.
 

I can work with this.
 

I walk over to him, and crook my fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head up so he has to look at me. He has a split lip, and his left hand looks terrible, all bleeding and bruised and swollen.

 
I give him a soft kiss, but he pulls away from it too soon. He doesn’t meet my eyes.
 

“Are you okay?” I ask. I have no idea what happened or why he’s here, but I have to know the answer to that question first.
 

He nods. “It’s over.”
 

“What?” I ask, not entirely sure that I heard him correctly. “What’s over?”

Stuart steps up behind me, holding a picture in his hands. My heart stops when I see it. It’s the man whose identity I’ve been trying to find ever since he showed up on my front step with that envelope full of pictures so many days ago.
 

“Does this guy look familiar?” Stuart asks.
 

I nod, speechless. It’s too good to be true. It’s too much to think that just like that, with a phone call and what looks like a broken hand, that this could all be over.
 

“Preston Pollard,” Stuart says. “That’s his name. We got him, and our guys in California nabbed his associate, the guy who conned your sister.”
 

“And the pictures?”
 

“We’ve deleted every trace of them,” Stuart assures me.
 

“How can you be sure?”
 

“Under the threat of injury and severe financial penalties, we got Mister Pollard to hand over all copies. If there are more and he didn’t disclose that to us, trust me. He’ll pay,” Stuart explains.

I guess this is as sure a thing as I’m going to get in this day and age.

“Does Corinne know? Did someone call her?”
 

Stuart nods. “She knows, although I expect she’d like to hear from you later. She knows we were bringing you in.”
 

“What happened, exactly?” I ask, sliding my hand along the smooth ridges of Ben’s tense shoulders. “Is this related? What happened to you?”
 

It’s a rapid fire of questions, but I’ve just been given so much information that it’s difficult to focus on just one thing.
 

“Slow down,” Stuart says, with a small smile that you can only give someone when you know everything is going to be okay.
 

“Okay, let’s start with this: Is your hand okay? How did that happen?”

“My hand’s fine,” Ben says absently, still looking at the floor.
 

“It’s broken.” Stuart looks at Ben. “They’re going to come and set it soon.”
 

“How did that happen?” I ask again. I’m guessing the answer is something that both of them know I won’t want to hear.
 

“I beat the shit out of that guy,” Ben says. He doesn’t sound proud of it though, just ashamed.
 

“Can someone please fill me in on what happened, exactly? Was he after me, or Ben? Or Corinne?”
 

Stuart scrubs his hand over his face. “All three of you, actually.”
 

For whatever reason, that wasn’t an answer I was prepared to hear. “Why?”
 

“He was an employee of mine,” Ben says. “He was working on the project he wanted you to steal the schematics for.”
 

“He wasn’t doing a very good job,” Stuart adds.
 

“I’m a pretty good judge of character. We hire the best talent from the best schools. Sometimes I make a mistake.”
 

I’m not really sure what to say to that, so I continue rubbing Ben’s shoulders, hoping to work out some of the stubborn tension that doesn’t want to come out.
 

“So, you fired him?” I ask. It doesn’t take a genius to put that puzzle together.
 

Ben nods. “A few weeks ago. He started missing work, not calling in. His manager counseled him about it a few times, but he started getting agitated. Turns out he was having some personal problems.”

“What kind of personal problems?” I ask. Breakups can make a person act irrationally. So can money- “Oh.” It hits me like a ton of bricks, right in the center of my chest.
 

“Mister Pollard had a trust fund, and he took a meeting with your father a month and a half ago,” Stuart explains.

That’s all he needs to say.
 

“Why go after Corinne, though? I asked him if he wanted money, and he told me he didn’t.”
 

“He was angry and desperate, Marisa,” says Stuart. “He got overambitious, wanting to embarrass your sister, tie you into knots, and get his hands on the real cash cow in Ben’s program.”
 

“He promised this guy in California a cut?” I ask.
 

Stuart nods. “Something like that.”
 

“I still don’t understand how we wound up in the hospital, though.”
 

Stuart gives Ben a long look, like he’s giving him the chance to explain himself. Ben’s focus stays on the floor.
 

“Mia found a digital signature on the thumb drive Mister Preston gave you that let us know who he was. Ben insisted on coming along when we went to question him. I’ll let him tell you the rest,” Stuart says.
 

The nurse enters the room at the most inopportune moment, and Stuart excuses himself to go make some phone calls. Apparently he’s got some unfinished business with the police, who have Preston Pollard locked up, charges pending.
 

“Time to get a cast on that,” she says, way too cheery for the situation at hand.
 

“Do you want me to stay?” I ask Ben, desperate to get through to him somehow, to break him out of this funk he’s in. I want to know his side of the story, how he went from a ride-along with Stuart to being on the receiving end of a cast.
 

He shakes his head. “No. Go call Corinne.”
 

“Ben,” I plead, crouching down so I can look him in the eye.
 

He takes my hand in his good one, and gives it a squeeze before bringing it up to his mouth, where he presses a kiss to my knuckles.
 

“Go, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you when I’m done.”
 

The nurse gives me a soft, understanding smile. “If you take a seat in the waiting room, I’ll come out and get you when he’s all finished.”
 

I’m reluctant to leave, but that’s clearly what Ben wants.
 

I nod, and head out of the door.
 

“Hey,” I say, standing on the small courtyard right off of the waiting room in the emergency wing of this hospital.
 

I can actually hear the smile in Corinne’s voice. “Hey.”
 

“How are you?” I ask. “Relieved, I hope?”
 

“Relieved, grateful, in awe. So thankful to you, Marisa. You have no idea.”
 

I can’t help but grin. “You should be thankful to Ben,” I tell her. “He’s the one who got the ball rolling on all of this once I told him.”
 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you the other night. I didn’t mean what I said, about you becoming like Mom and Dad.”
 

“Don’t apologize,” I explain. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, Corinne.”
 

“I was angry and scared, and I lashed out. I appreciate that you want to make me feel better about it, but that doesn’t mean that I’m any less sorry.”
 

“I appreciate your apology,” I say, brushing a strand of hair back behind my ear. “But, it was you who made me realize that I needed to ask for help.”
 

“What do you mean?”
 

“I was worried about you. I always worry about you, but now with things the way they are with our family, I…sometimes I get a little nervous that you’re not being completely honest with me about how things are for you. I don’t want you to be angry about this, but I had lunch with Felicity the other day, and I asked about you.”
 

I hear Corinne sigh on the other end of the line. “I know.”
 

“You…what?”
 

Corinne laughs. “I know. Felicity told me.”

“Oh,” I reply, not sure how else to respond.
 

“She was right, you know.”
 

“About what?”
 

“I look up to you, Marisa. When you told me what you planned to do to Ben, I was disappointed. But that feeling wasn’t even in the same vicinity of how proud of you I was when you told me you reached out for help. Or how grateful I feel to you and Ben right now.”

The tears are falling down my cheeks before I even register them, and I honestly can’t believe that I lucked out with such an amazing sister.
 

“You have no idea how nice it is to hear that,” I admit. I’m not even trying to hide the fact that I’m crying.
 

I hear the sniffle on the other side of the line, and I know that Corinne is crying, too. “Thank you so much, Marisa. For everything that you do for me, that you’ve done for me. These past few months could’ve been so miserable, but they haven’t been. And that’s because of you.”
 

“I’d do anything for you, Cor.”
 

“I know,” she whispers.
 

“We have to stick together. You and me. Always.”
 

“Always,” she replies. “Is Ben there? Can I talk to him?”
 

“He’s…uh, we’re at the hospital right now.”
 

“Is he okay?” she asks, an edge of panic in her voice.
 

“Yeah, just a broken hand.”
 

“So, he beat the shit out of the guy, huh?”
 

“I’m not actually sure what happened,” I admit. “He doesn’t seem to be too anxious to talk about it.”
 

“Give him some time,” she tells me. “And take good care of him.”
 

I smile. “I will. Oh, and just so you know…”
 

“Hmm?”

“That security detail is sticking around until this thing with Mom and Dad dies down, okay?”
 

“I won’t fight you on mine as long as you don’t try to get rid of yours,” she replies mischievously.
 

“I’m not going to get rid of mine.”
 

“Good. I don’t want to worry about you.”
 

“I think I worry enough for the both of us,” I tell her.
 

“Maybe you should take a break on that for a while. Spend some time with your boyfriend, and get to know each other again. Have faith that your sister is out here in the sunshine having a grand old time.”
 

“That doesn’t do much to stop the worrying,” I tease.
 

Corinne laughs, and it’s a wonderful sound. “I love you, Marisa.”
 

I smile. “I love you, too.”

After an uncomfortable ride in complete silence, Ben’s driver drops us off at his apartment. He’s a little bit groggy from the pain pills the nurse gave him before he was discharged from the hospital, but he’s walking under his own power. Still, I slide my arm around his waist to help keep him steady.